


Think of me

by Nival_Vixen



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Complete, Derek Likes Stiles, Derek and Stiles are Mates, Horny Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Naked Derek, Stiles Likes Derek, Stiles Stilinski Wants Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski Wants Sex, Telepathic Bond, Telepathy, Werewolf Derek, Werewolf Mates, Wolf Derek, Wolf Derek Hale, telepath derek hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-06
Updated: 2014-10-06
Packaged: 2018-02-20 03:07:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2412707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nival_Vixen/pseuds/Nival_Vixen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU prompt: Person A is thinking sexually graphic or generally odd thoughts and suddenly panics and thinks “If you’re a mind reader, cough right now.”<br/>Person B coughs.</p><p>...</p><p>Stiles has been thinking about Derek naked a lot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Think of me

Stiles doesn't really know what's come over him. Okay, that's a total and utter _lie_ , he knows _exactly_ what's come over him: **Derek**. Wait, not like that. ( _Not yet, at least._ ) Derek always seems to be turning into a wolf at the weirdest moments, and of course, when he turns back, hey pronto! He's _naked_. Gloriously naked and thick and uncut and gorgeous and usually covered in a slight sheen of sweat because they've been fighting bad guys or he's been running, or he's just naturally shiny and gorgeous and Stiles wants to drop to his knees and suck Derek's cock like he's the thirstiest man in the world. So, yeah. Naked!Derek tends to send Stiles' already over-sexed brain straight down into the gutter, and nothing short of three wank sessions can get him under control again. Even a cold shower hadn't helped, the first time that had happened. He'd stood under the freezing cold spray, trying to think of anything other than Derek's naked body, and then gave in after a few minutes and jacked off anyway because he wasn't getting anywhere with the willpower thing.

It becomes somewhat of a habit, and every time they've fought the latest Big Bad, Stiles has to rush home before he embarrasses himself in front of everyone, barely gets enough time to slick his hand up with lube and rub his hard cock for some relief before he's coming everywhere. Sometimes he can't even wait until he's home, and he's jerked off in the Jeep so much that those little scented trees just aren't going to cut it anymore. In fact, it's going beyond a habit now, it's starting to become a Pavlovian response, and Stiles just has to _see_ Derek and he's thinking of him naked. It used to happen before when Stiles was just thinking of Derek objectively, trying to determine whether he liked guys and girls, or just Derek aesthetically. (He's determined that he's bi, but Derek is like his kryptonite of guys, and him being naked so often isn't helping.)

Stiles doesn't _really_ want to think of Derek naked all the freaking time because the guy's gone through enough shit that he doesn't need some almost-not-a-teenager dweeb lusting after him instead of taking him seriously as a person. And he definitely wouldn't be doing that normally, because Stiles likes Derek's sassy remarks, his quick mind, the fact that he reads things like Shakespeare for _fun_ , he's terrible at cooking, and after you've gotten to know him, Derek's actually got more words than most people, it just takes a while longer for them to come out. Stiles wants all of Derek, not _just_ his body.

The next time a Big Bad comes to town, Stiles is paired off with Derek, who tells him to run in the opposite direction, pulling his clothes off as he shifts into his wolf form. This is a seriously bad time for a boner, and Stiles has to flex his muscles a few times and think of Gerard naked ( _ugh, fuck, why was he so cruel to himself? That's horrifying!_ ) before he's got enough control to run properly. Stiles can hear the Big Bad behind him, something with sharp claws and sharper teeth, as well as a healthy appetite for human entrails according to the Bestiary, and runs as fast as he can. He's pretty sure he breaks his PB on 100 metre suicides; Coach'd be so proud.

Then Derek's there, jumping on the Big Bad's back and taking them both to the ground. Stiles trips on a tree root and falls, scrambling as far back as possible even as he tries to think of something to help Derek. He's surrounded by trees, leaves and branches and roots, and if he can get his spark working, it might be enough to trap the Big Bad. _No, it **will** be enough_ , he tells himself and Stiles stands up, heading over to a tree that's winding in on itself, practically a cage already. It's not a rowan tree like the Nemeton, but it's an ash tree, and that can be just as powerful for Druids. Stiles rubs his hands together, imagining the trees branches parting and allowing for a gap that's just as wide as the Big Bad. It starts to open slowly, and Stiles is concentrating on the tree with everything he has that he doesn't realise that Derek's barrelling him over until he's already knocked onto the ground and the Big Bad goes flying overhead, straight into the opened tree face-first. Stiles' loss of concentration means the branches close around it faster than expected, and there's a howl of pain as the Big Bad's leg is torn to pieces in the branches.

Derek pants over him, tongue lolling out, then he carefully steps back and shifts back, chest heaving as he looks down at Stiles. (Stiles is already getting hard in his pants, and he just wants to take Derek home and ride his dick 'til morning.)

"Good plan, Stiles."

"W-what?" he replies, eyes wide as he licks his lips.

"With the tree," Derek says, nodding to the ash tree. "You coming?" he adds over his shoulder, heading back in the direction of the car so they can tell the other's what's happened.

 _God, that ass_. That ass was sculpted out of marble and turned to flesh, Stiles would swear on it. _He'd bite it before he eased his cock between those cheeks, and Derek's back muscles would flex as he arched back into him, and he'd bite his neck then, reducing the powerful werewolf to nothing but pleas and desperate moans, and_ ... Derek's stopped and is looking at him.

"Move already, Stiles. That tree won't hold it all night," Derek says, and is it Stiles' imagination, but does he sound a bit breathless?

He scrambles up off the ground and follows Derek through the forest, trying to keep his gaze directed anywhere but Derek's naked body. He's already half-hard in his pants, and being so close to Derek is not helping. Stiles can smell him, a myriad of scents that makes him wonder just what he'd smell if he was a werewolf. Derek would smell good, even now, covered in sweat after taking down a monster and having a fight in the forest. His adrenaline had to be running high after a fight like that, making everything more sensitive; Stiles could drop to his knees and suck him off and Derek would probably come in seconds. Derek makes a groaning sound beside him, and Stiles looks at him in worry, thinking that maybe something was broken and he hadn't noticed.

"I'm fine, Stiles. Let's just get back already," Derek says, probably in response to his sudden spiked heartbeat and the worry exuding from him. Probably.

"I've got to get home," Stiles replies quickly, his boner's still there and not going to go down without help anytime soon.

"We've only got the one car, Stiles. Do you expect me to run home?"

"No. I just... Never mind, it's fine. Hey, look, there's your shirt," Stiles says, jogging over to get the discarded henley.

It's torn and covered in dirt, and Stiles winces when he shakes it out and it doesn't really improve the material. There's a zipping noise, and Stiles turns around to see Derek zipping his jeans on. Seeing him half-naked doesn't lessen any of Stiles' inappropriately timed fantasies, and he wonders what it would be like to see Derek getting dressed, the morning after they'd fucked, his hair messed up and sporting a few hickeys if he can repress his healing.

Derek stalks forward and takes the shirt from him, both of them quiet as he slips it on at far too-close a distance. Stiles can practically feel his warm breath on his lips, and he wants to be able to kiss Derek without him pushing him away, to kiss him because he can, and because Derek actually wants Stiles to kiss him. Which - _ha!_ \- so not happening in this universe. Maybe in a different multiverse, they'd already be fucking, or they'd be kissing at least, and instead, he's in this universe as a scrawny undesirable motormouth who'd never be liked by someone as amazing and gorgeous as Derek.

"Come on, let's get back," Derek says, grabbing Stiles' wrist and guiding him over to the car. "Talk to me," he says when they're both seated and heading out to the main road.

"What?" Stiles asks in surprise, eyes wide.

"Talk to me; adrenaline's wearing off and I'll drop right off if I don't have something to keep me awake. So, it's either you talking or me singing, and I don't sing."

Stiles snickers; he's heard the cheesy 80s songs that Derek's sung along to in the loft before and while he doesn't have much of a voice, he's definitely got moves. Which are hard to execute in a car, so Stiles just shrugs and starts talking about everything and anything. He does notice that Derek doesn't seem tired, but then Derek asks him something or gives a thought of his own, and he's too distracted by the fact he's actually conversing with Derek to think on it much more.

They get back to the loft, and Stiles' boner has gone flaccid, for which he's extremely grateful. Not that talking to Derek wasn't a turn on because talking to someone about the validity of sword fights is most definitely a turn on, but actually managing to converse as semi-normal humans gave him something else to focus on aside from Derek's body. By the time they get inside, the rest of the pack's already there and waiting, and after a quick explanation, Scott goes with Kira and Liam to find the caged monster. They say they know the tree they're talking about and don't need a guide.

"Well, that was essentially a waste of four hours. Next time, can we make sure the banshee actually needs to be present?" Lydia calls over her shoulder as she leaves the loft.

Mason decides to leave not long after, and Stiles figures he should go as well, but he doesn't, instead hangs around and flicks through Derek's CD collection while he's upstairs showering. And there's the return of his boner. _Fuck_.

Derek comes downstairs again, sweatpants loose around his hips, and seems a little surprised that Stiles is still there. Stiles is sitting on the lounge, trying to get his boner to go away, dammit, trying not to think of Derek naked _again_ , or even half-dressed, or even dressed because apparently the thought of undressing Derek is just as scintillating to his cock as him being already naked. Stiles looks over at Derek, hoping he can't smell his guilt - _or worse, his arousal_ \- from that distance, and sees that Derek's already got pink ears and a pink blush on his cheeks. Which is actually really weird because Stiles has measured how long it takes for werewolves to notice he's turned on, and it's usually, definitely longer than these few seconds with this distance between them.

 _Holy fuck, what if Derek's reading his mind? What if it's some new power thing that werewolves who turn into wolves have? Oh fuck, can Derek actually read his mind? Cough. Cough if you can read my mind_ , Stiles thinks, desperately, and he almost falls off the couch when Derek coughs. _Fuck, no. Fluke. Fluke. Do it again. Cough then rub your nose_.

Derek does both, cheeks pinker still, and this time Stiles does fall off the lounge.

"Holy fuck. You... you can actually do that. Oh, fuck, dude, I'm so sorry, I... The things I've been thinking... I mean, I can explain. _Fuck_ ," Stiles swears because his fucking elbow hit the coffee table and it _hurts_.

Derek sighs and strides over, dropping to his knees in front of Stiles. He puts a hand on his forearm and leaches his pain slowly, black lines running up his arm.

"I didn't... I didn't want you to find out like this," Derek admits. "I thought I'd wait a few more days, give us both time to settle down before I told you."

"Settle down? Told me what? That you can read minds now? That I've... Dude, I've been thinking about blowing you practically constantly for the last three months; how long has this thing been going on?"

Derek blinks at that. "I didn't know it had been that long. The mind reading thing is relatively new, and uh, very specific," he says, not looking at Stiles.

"Specific? As in, just me?" Stiles asks, and gets a quick nod in return. "Okay, and is there a reason for that? Or your mind reading powers just thought I'd be the best choice for free porn fantasies?"

Derek looks embarrassed now, and Stiles belatedly realises that Derek's practically straddling his waist. Derek raises an eyebrow, but doesn't move, so Stiles figures he doesn't have an issue with the proximity thing.

"We're mates, which is why I can hear you. It was... vague at first. I think the first thought I got was the shower fantasy," Derek says, giving a slight cough as he blushes yet again.

Well, Stiles isn't embarrassed about that one; the shower fantasy was fucking amazing, and he silently dares Derek to disagree. He doesn't.

"I thought it was a result of my own imagination, and then realised that it definitely wasn't. Too focused on my pleasure rather than yours," Derek adds, and he's stroking Stiles' arm like he doesn't even realise it. "I thought if I ignored it, it'd stop for you, but it's increased. You want me so much, it's all you're thinking about," he says, nostrils flaring as he scents Stiles' lust again, and breathes in deep. "I've been denying myself, and it's backfired."

"Wait, what?"

"I'm supposed to reciprocate, Stiles. That's the point of this bond, a bond between mates. We're meant to swap, to help understand each other without words because it's hard to talk as a wolf," Derek says, a slight grin on his face, and it's one of Stiles' favourite Derek-smiles.

"So... We're meant to swap sexy thoughts until we're drift compatible?" Stiles guesses.

"Something like that," Derek says, nodding.

"You think you've got anything like that for me, big guy?" Stiles asks, raising an eyebrow at him.

"More than you know," he admits shyly, and he's blushing again.

 _Screw it_ , Stiles thinks; _they're mates, and that means he gets kissing privileges now_ , he decides, wrapping his arms around Derek's shoulders and kissing him for dear life. Derek reciprocates, and there's a hesitant push at Stiles' mind, of them together, what feels like hundreds of thoughts flying through his mind coming from Derek about them together. These ones are focused on Stiles' pleasure, and there's things he hasn't even thought about yet, so it's definitely not coming from himself. _This is going to be interesting_ , Stiles thinks, grinning.

 _Interesting doesn't even cover it_ , Derek thinks back, grinning back at him before he leans down for another kiss.

Stiles makes a silent promise to both of them to try out _everything_ they're thinking, and in his mind, Derek eagerly agrees.

...

The end.

**Author's Note:**

> (Stiles would be an annoying little shit now that he knows what his thoughts do to Derek; there's no way he's not going to make everything sexual when it means Derek clears the pack out of the loft in a matter of minutes, and they're fucking against the closest surface a few seconds later.)


End file.
